By Emily Lyons, Co-Chair of Saint Philip’s Outreach Commission

Dear Friends,

Tomorrow, Saturday, March 1, Saint Philip’s Prison Ministry will host a reentry simulation led by our community partner, Arouet.

This reentry simulation is an interactive educational experience that puts participants in the shoes of people who have been released from prison as they navigate the challenges of reintegrating into society.

The reentry simulation is more than just an education event, or an exercise in building empathy.

It’s a chance to hear directly from people who have been incarcerated about what they have experienced.

It’s a chance to learn about volunteer opportunities and other ways that you can support reentry services, within our local community and beyond.

It’s a chance to connect with our neighbors from other churches and organizations who will be attending, and discover ways that we can work together on social justice issues.

If you haven’t already registered for this event, I invite you to consider it. You can still register through this Friday by emailing Kiki at kiki.cheney@stphilipstucson.org.

And even if you aren’t able to join us for the reentry simulation, I invite you, as we approach the beginning of Lent, to bring compassion for people affected by incarceration into your Lenten meditations and practices.

I hope soon to announce some additional Prison Ministry offerings that you can integrate into your spiritual practices during this season. But for now, I offer you my reflections on the connections between the work of Prison Ministry and Lent.

During Lent, we reflect on our continual need for reconciliation with God. It is only through Jesus Christ’s sacrifice that we are freed from sin and death.

No person is more or less deserving of salvation than another, and no person is more or less in need of salvation than another. We are all sinners. This fact is something to celebrate, and we do celebrate it in the Easter Proclamation when we give thanks for the “necessary sin of Adam which gained for us so great a redeemer.”

But to become our redeemer, Jesus had to suffer degradation, humiliation, and pain for our sake—and at our hands. He became a criminal that we might be exonerated; he was executed that we might have eternal life. We reflect on this with grief during Lent.

Just days before his execution, Jesus was welcomed into Jerusalem with joy by people hoping he was the Messiah they longed for. How quickly these people abandoned him, taking his refusal to save himself and come down from the cross as proof that he was guilty of the blasphemy with which he had been charged.

Had we been there when Jesus was condemned and crucified, would we have been any less cruel or ignorant than the people who called for his death?

We belong to a culture that sanctions the degradation and dehumanization of people in prison. By that, I mean that in our culture it is acceptable, even encouraged, to view and treat people in prison as less than human.

This degradation and dehumanization doesn’t end when people are released from prison. People who have served time in prison routinely face housing and employment discrimination. Systemic barriers that stand in the way of formerly incarcerated people to access the services and social supports they need to successfully reintegrate into society often trap people in a cycle of punishment with no clear way out.

When we dehumanize others, we dehumanize ourselves. When we set ourselves apart from others because of their perceived unworthiness, we forget our own inherent unworthiness, and set ourselves apart from God.

Thankfully, we can always come back into relationship with God—if we choose to. Likewise, we can choose to change our culture to one that supports and uplifts the humanity of all people, and by so doing, make the world a better and safer place for everyone.

This sentiment may seem like misplaced idealism when we witness daily events that call the rule of law into question and advance a cruel agenda targeting the most vulnerable members of society. The unfolding of these events exposes how vulnerable our institutions are to abuses of power, and how easily they can be twisted to serve unjust ends.

This appalling spectacle of injustice has left many of us feeling an urgent need to take action. At the same time, many of us feel paralyzed, unsure of what to do, or where to direct our ardent desire to oppose injustice.

In the fear and paralysis of this moment, we risk losing sight of injustices that our culture and our country have long tolerated.

Institutional racism, the criminalization of migrants and the unhoused—these and many other injustices are interlinked with each other and with the systematic dehumanization of the incarcerated.

But again, we have the power to change these things. Indeed, as Christians we are called “to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”

As Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote while he was himself incarcerated in Birmingham Jail, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”

If we accept The Rev’d Dr King’s assertion that injustice to one is injustice to all, then we also must accept that working to bring justice to one advances justice for all. That is to say, we all can advance justice in the world, even through modest efforts.

I’ll close this message by quoting in full the Collect for Social Justice, which is on page 209 of the Book of Common Prayer:

Almighty God, who hast created us in thine own image: Grant us grace fearlessly to contend against evil and to make no peace with oppression; and, that we may reverently use our freedom, help us to employ it in the maintenance of justice in our communities and among nations, to the glory of thy holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Yours in Christ,

—Emily